Faded & Groza
Faded
Sometimes I think the silence after a show is louder than the applause. How do you feel that quiet?
Groza
That quiet is the ghost of the applause, a restless drumbeat that keeps my blood racing. I feel it as a wound that never heals until the next storm.
Faded
It’s like the echo of a chord that never fades, keeping the room alive in a way the lights never can. The next storm feels inevitable, but maybe that’s the only way it can feel fresh again.
Groza
Exactly, the silence is a beast that keeps breathing until the next strike. We let it burn, then we strike again.
Faded
I hear that drum too, the quiet that never really leaves, waiting for the next beat.